


A Helping Hand

by Nununununu



Series: Nununununu's Kinktober 2019 fics [19]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Aromantic Natasha Romanov, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Because of 'sex pollen' magic spell, Bottom Steve Rogers, Consent Issues, Day 18, Dildos, Don't copy to another site, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Femdom, Fuck Or Die, Intercrural Sex, Kinktober 2019, Male-Female Friendship, Multiple Orgasms, Not Romance, Pegging, Sex Pollen, Sex Toys, Strap-Ons, thigh-fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-24 12:24:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: “I’m not letting you fuck me,” Natasha’s gaze is at once compassionate and implacable, the way it has been since they woke up in this room, “That’s not what’s going to happen here.”





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Day 18: Natasha Romanov / Steve Rogers (Pegging, Strap-Ons, Intercrucal Sex (Thigh-Fucking) + Fuck Or Die #2, Sex Pollen #2, Femdom # 2).
> 
> Trigger warning for dubious consent due to the sex pollen / fuck or die trope: only Steve is affected by the sex pollen (magic spell) and initially seeks to hold out, although he eventually agrees to the sex. Natasha consents to helping him out as a friend. Implied unspecified form of voyeurism by the villain responsible for the situation.
> 
> Another take on the magic glitter bombing villain of the week, with a different result to Day 7, [It Must Be A Tuesday](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20956499) (also Natasha / Steve).

“I’m not letting you fuck me,” Natasha’s gaze is at once compassionate and implacable, the way it has been since they woke up in this room, “That’s not what’s going to happen here.”

Steve is hot under the collar, hot everywhere, sweat – sweat! He hasn’t been sweaty in _decades_ – running down from his forehead and temples; he yanked the top half of his uniform off, baring himself to the waist, half an hour ago.

“No,” he agrees, fists clenched so hard the skin over his knuckles is threatening to split. Need almost chokes him, “No, that’s not – not going to happen. We’re okay; I’m okay. I’m sorry about this.”

It’s his fault – well, it’s their captor’s fault, really, but he still should have _thought_: Steve was the one who failed to look before he leapt and got hit in the face with a pink glitter bomb as a result, thrown by the villain of the week. Said glitter bomb had turned out to contain – Steve still can’t quite believe he’s even thinking this, despite the fact his body has been intensely, painfully desperate for sex for going on two hours now – some sort of ‘sex pollen’.

The villain had got Natasha with something else, some other spell she won’t tell him about but she swears isn’t overly troubling her, before opening a portal beneath their feet, transporting the pair of them to this room with instructions to “fuck or die.”

Similar to this instruction, as lairs for stashing kidnapped Avengers go, it’s unusual. The main feature is the big overly soft and painfully eye-watering bright pink super king-sized bed Natasha is currently perched upon, her legs folded to one side of her, bent at the knee. The heart-shaped box of chocolates is also a previously unheard of touch, as is the neon pink shag rug and the rose petals everywhere.

Although –

“No, I’ve seen all this before,” Natasha had shrugged when they’d first regained consciousness and Steve had been trying to deny his inexplicable erection as they explored the confines of the room, “Just not quite so pink.”

Steve had gestured at the countless sex toys, all – you guessed it – neon pink and displayed in prominent rows on the shelving unit occupying the length of one wall, “Even those?”

Natasha’s lips had quirked, “_Especially_ those.”

And so here they are. With Natasha not going to let him fuck her – which she's under no obligation to whatsoever and never will be.

Steve grits his teeth at the arousal plaguing him – it’s all he can think of, very nearly all that he knows – and struggles to repress a groan that spills out of him instead as a whine.

Perhaps –

Perhaps if it becomes even more unbearable, perhaps if it gets to the point he absolutely can’t hold out –

Well. In truth, Steve passed that point in truth some time ago, but then he convinced himself to hold out some more –

Anyway perhaps, if it comes to it, Natasha might not mind if he – takes the edge off. If he just grinds into the palm of his hand through his uniform pants, nothing more.

The thought of doing this makes Steve’s arms shake, makes him pant.

“It doesn’t help,” Natasha cautions almost softly, when he makes some sort of reed-thin, quavering noise quite despite himself, his fingers twitching within his fists, nails digging into his palms. She reaches over from the side of the bed to where Steve’s stalwartly refusing to curl on the rug, and lays her palm gently against his back.

The sensation of it rattles his overstimulated nerves, almost makes him sob.

Her voice is dry, “Believe me, I’ve tried it in the past.”

A jolt of anger almost takes Steve’s mind off his cock for a moment. The anger is far more important, “You’ve – encountered this ‘pollen’ before?”

“And other spells and concoctions and lotions and all sorts of things like it, in one sense or another,” Natasha glances into the box of chocolates she opened twenty minutes ago, inspects them and bites into a caramel one. Steve had been aghast when she first ate one, unable to help but worry some further spell might be placed upon them; fearing what it might make Natasha do.

“There’s always something worse that could happen,” Natasha’s response had been pragmatic, “I’m going to take my pleasure where I can.”

She’d proceeded to drink a glass of the very expensive looking bottle of wine too and, when Steve had near swallowed his tongue in dread of what effect it might have, had given him a look.

“Steve, I was encouraged to build up resistance to almost all known forms of poison and other drugs since I was a child. I have an antidote to several of the most common types embedded in one of my false teeth.” Steve must have given Natasha a look in return, because she shook her head and confirmed, “No, you don’t want to know what’s in my other ones.” She’d tilted the glass in his direction, “And this happens to be a very nice bottle of red. Our ‘captor’ wants us to fuck, not die. Why else would they provide all the toys?” She tipped her head at the frothily lace covered bedside table and the large bottle of pink sexual lubricant that sat upon it, “Or else why would they provide that. Trust me, the dying option is the less desirable one in their eyes.”

It’s the less desirable option in Steve’s, too. But nevertheless he’s not going to give into this. Even if it is getting harder to breathe.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” Natasha says and then she’s kneeling next to him, holding her hand out to him in offer, “Come on, Steve. On the bed with you. Using your hand will provide a little relief at first, but then the need will only come back worse – it’s not fulfilling the requirements imposed by the ‘spell’. I’m not going to fuck you, but you’re a good friend and I don't want you to suffer. And using my hand _will_ help.”

“I – I –” Steve’s been so hard for so long his cock _hurts_. Tears of pure relief prick at the inside of his closed eyelids as he nods, giving in, “If you would. If you're sure. Through my clothes? _Please_.”

“Up you go then,” Natasha helps him up onto the bed – Steve ends up leaning on her far more than he should, hardly able to support himself on his wildly trembling limbs, and crashes onto his stomach as soon as he's up.

The pressure of his dick against the mattress makes him moan. He’s so aroused it’s _excruciating_.

“Raise your ass,” Kneeling on the bed next to him, Natasha gives him a light smack on the rump. And that – just that, just that little impact – is enough to send Steve spiralling over the edge for the first time, so hypersensitive he almost sobs.

His dick stays hard. Come slicks the inside of his uniform pants, but he stays hard and the need doesn’t lessen, not at all.

“Come on, Rogers,” Natasha encourages and gets a hand under him when Steve manages to raise his hips, and places her palm no-nonsense and absolutely _perfect_ against the rigid line of his aching cock, “It’s okay, Steve,” Her voice softens when he buries his face in one of the too-soft feather pillows, “Don’t worry about this. It’s okay.”

He comes the second time like that, pushing in jerky little movements against the palm of her hand; nothing more is needed. And it’s good, it’s better than good; it’s amazing –

But it’s still not enough.

He ends up naked face down on the bed with Natasha running the head of a dildo she selected from the shelf between the flushed cheeks of his ass when she’s brought him off three more times and he’s still just as frantic, just as beside himself with spell-wrought desire. Natasha had inspected the sex toys carefully, eyed him as he panted at the sight of them – too gone by now to try to hide it – his red cock jutting out beneath him still hard and leaking onto the by now much abused and crumpled pink sheets.

Steve can’t help but think he should have run out of spunk quite some time ago; his balls feel like they’ve been wrung out, but his body is still pumping out precome, nipples still tight and wrinkled, arousal still a hot throb lodged in his throat.

“Please – Nat – _please_ –” He’s begging despite himself as Natasha pulls back briefly to fix the attachable base of the dildo into the harness she’s belted around her waist and thighs over her catsuit, “Please put – ah – put –” He can’t say it.

He can't say it, but – but how he wants it. How he wants it so very, _very_ much –

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m going to put this in you, Steve,” Natasha pauses _again_ to squirt on lube, even as the plump head of the dildo rests against the pleadingly flexing rim of Steve’s exposed hole as she holds his ass cheeks apart enough to allow access with the fingers and thumb of her other hand.

“Yes – oh –” Steve pushes back against the firm rub of the silicone despite himself and that’s it, that’s enough – he’s coming _again_, “Ah – ah – _hah_ –”

The intensity of the spell is not quite so utterly overwhelming now. It recedes just the slightest bit, just enough to let Steve really _feel_ it as Natasha guides the slick length of the silicone between his tight-pressed thighs, the curved length of it rubbing up against his taint, nudging his somehow still heavy balls,

“Oh – _ohhh_ –”

“Do you want me to?” Natasha places one of her hands on his hip in offering and Steve nods, _nods_ – “_please please please_” – and so she reaches around, her chest grazing his lower back as her cool, measured grip closes around his weeping cock, Natasha’s hips snapping forwards as she fucks his thighs and tugs at his shaft –

“_Hah!_” Steve comes so hard this time he nearly swallows his tongue.

“Good; you’re doing well, Steve,” Natasha says, quietly – so anyone listening in won’t hear her – and then she makes Steve take a break, drink a little of the bottled water that’s been all he’ll accept so far, as she sips at her wine.

But the need’s still on him, it’s still on him, and he _can’t_ –

“I can take it from here,” Steve nonetheless insists.

“And undo all the work we’ve done towards cancelling the effects of the ‘pollen’?” Natasha asks. She gives him a little rueful grin and selects another chocolate, “Believe me, I’ve tried that in the past as well. Come on, you're getting there. Not much longer.”

“_Hahhh_ –” Steve turns face down again when she puts her hand back on his hip, closing his eyes to conceal exactly _how much_ he wants it as she positions the firm yet slightly yielding head of the silicone cock at his asshole and pushes gently in.

It’s not gentle come the end, but it _is_ the end – a final orgasm veritably rips through Steve’s entire body as Natasha fucks him, shoving into him with what must be her full strength, and Steve adores it, he craves it, he wants more more _more_ –

“Oh – oh – thank you; thank god –” He collapses onto the pillows, face landing in a puddle of his own drool, the case ripped where he bit at it; stomach smeared unpleasantly with a great mess of lube combined with his own fluids.

“Oh no, you're not quite done yet, Rogers,” Natasha says implacably, and forces Steve to sit up and drink more water, however much he really would prefer to just pass out. “No, don’t do that,” she says from seemingly somewhat further away when he closes his eyes.

“Hmm?” Steve dredges up the wherewithal to somehow open them back up, and finds Natasha off the bed, pinning the freshly appeared villain of the week to the wall with her arm against their throat. There's a door opened up where there hadn’t been one before.

“The spell the bastard put on me prevented me from identifying their location until now,” Natasha explains. The signs of damage Steve spots within the antechamber revealed by the open door imply she’d stalked in there in a matter of seconds and simply dragged the villain out, despite their efforts to resist. Natasha blows a single dislodged lock of hair out of her eyes; the only sign of exertion.

“Did they –” Steve’s still fumbling for words; he hadn’t even sensed her _move_. He’s never been fucked out like this before; never been so utterly ruined.

That and Natasha is very, very good at what she does.

In all arenas.

“You might want to clean up first,” Smirking faintly, Natasha tips her chin slightly in indication of Steve’s decidedly debauched state and lack of clothes. She’s still sporting the strap-on dildo ensemble, the latter jutting out proud from her hips. It looks like she’s wiped it, at least.

“Don’t you want to – take it off?” Steve aims a nod of his own at it. As much as he wants to spring into action and shake answers out of their suitably terrified looking captor-turned-captive, his legs take some coaxing to agree to let him stand.

“Oh no, I’m keeping this one,” Natasha shoots him a larger smirk before glancing at the other sex toys, “Quite a few of them can go into my collection, in fact.” She wrinkles her nose, “At least, those that haven’t previously been used.”

“Um,” Steve endeavours not to wrinkle his nose similarly and focuses on cleaning up. Natasha will convince the villain to open up another portal and they’ll escort them to the Avengers’ Tower. He’ll shower, Natasha will disappear to probably do some interrogation, and things will go back to the way they were before.

And this is okay.

Natasha’s been matter-of-fact, kind and understanding about the whole thing. She also hasn’t laughed at him once. Steve knows her well enough to suspect that he may well be in for some gentle teasing at a later point, though.

He’s okay with this too. He’d feel bad that he hasn’t done anything for her, but Natasha so clearly isn’t in any way desirous of it.

Or, rather and perhaps more accurately, he’s simply not the person she would want it from. And this is also quite all right.

“Nat, I’m –” Starting to apologise again, Steve finds it doesn’t feel appropriate, not when there’s no pity or regret in her gaze. He changes it to, “Thank you.”

“What are friends for,” Natasha simply smiles and shrugs, and –

“Yeah,” Steve grins. She is. A good friend, one of the best out there._  
_

“Make me a sandwich when we gets back?” Natasha's smile slants into an answering grin.

“Nat,” Steve shakes his head fondly. For all she's done for him, he'll make her all the sandwiches she wants, “Lunch is forever on me.”


End file.
